I played through a ballet by Carpenter, whose wife is in Paris and wants me to arrange for her to meet Diaghilev. I will do so, but doubt whether Diaghilev will want to produce this ballet: a procession from the banal to the ephemeral, often easy on the ear but always nugatory. As we rode together in a large and comfortable automobile I reflected how strange it was that there existed people who possess large cars and who do not have to worry about what the morrow will bring! As if in answer to my thoughts Mme Carpenter let out a great sigh: 'Oh, what would John not give to have Diaghilev accept his ballet!' Everyone wants what he does not have.